


Tasertricks Week Drabble Collection

by Yavannie



Category: Thor (Movies), Thor - All Media Types, Wallander (UK TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossover, Drabble Collection, F/M, Fluff, Future Fic, Good Loki, Light Smut, Romance, Sorry Not Sorry, sickly sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-08
Updated: 2014-04-13
Packaged: 2018-01-18 16:40:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1435471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yavannie/pseuds/Yavannie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drabbles and short stories written for Tasertricks week 2014. Prompts filled: </p><p>2 - Sparks and dancing. Rated G. Fluffy fluff. Romance.<br/>4 - Cold feet. Rated G. Sickly sweet. Romance.<br/>7 - Crossover (Wallander AU). Rated T. Drama/suspense/crime. Light smut. </p><p>This week has been so much fun! Unfortunately I didn't have time to fill all the prompts, but A for effort, eh?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sparks

"It is customary for the good man to dance with the maid of honor," said Thor. "I trust you will not disappoint, brother."

"Some of their customs are less logical than others, it would seem,” said Loki. "By the way, it's _best_ man, not good man."

"Indeed?" said Thor, a smile playing about his lips. "I thought it was clear by now that I am the better of us, and thus…"

Loki gave him a withering look, then reluctantly rose from the corner table where he’d spent the last hour. Being forced to endure seven courses of eye-watering Midgardian cuisine and sub-par wine was bad enough, but this was hopefully the last in the long line of humiliating events starting with the so-called stag night. The antler-themed jokes had kept Stark going all the way through to the speech at dinner this evening. That, too, was a task usually reserved for the best man. Loki almost wished that he had been given the benefit of the doubt, but then again, he likely wouldn’t have been able to resist the temptation to cause a bit of mischief… Yes, Thor knew him too well.

Darcy, on the other hand, still didn’t know him well enough; that much was evident. 

“Why not?” she said, grabbing the hand he’d been extending in full expectation of a refusal. “I’m guessing it was Thor’s idea?”

He glanced over at his brother, confidently leading his tiny bride around the room in a waltz, then back at Darcy. “You don’t have to do this,” he said quietly. 

“I know,” she said, flicking her elaborate curls over her shoulder with a determined look in her eyes. “But I haven’t kept this dress spotless for ten hours of fussing over Jane for nothing. Let’s go, Mr. Moody, people are waiting.”

For a few seconds, they fought a silent battle over who would lead. Needless to say, experience won in the end.

“You’re good at this,” said Darcy.

“I was a prince,” said Loki. “There were lessons.”

Around them, the dance floor was starting to fill up with other couples. Loki recognised fewer than half of them, but from the looks they shot him, he could tell they were more than familiar with who he was. In an attempt to ignore them, he turned his eyes to Darcy. Her expression was thoughtful.

“Do you miss home?” she asked.

The question shot uncomfortably through his chest. “What home?” he said. 

“Asgard, then. Do you miss it?”

He looked around the room, at the garlands of brightly coloured balloons and lanterns; at the abandoned cake buffet where a few children were stuffing their pockets full of toffees; at the full-height windows open to the city nightscape. “We used to hold our dances in the planetarium,” he said. “It was somewhat more grand than this.”

“The planetarium?” she said. “It sounds right up Jane’s alley. A shame I never got to see it.”

Loki smiled briefly, and she frowned, then returned the smile a little uncertainly. 

“Would you like to?” he asked, quite without meaning to do it out loud.

She huffed a little laugh, then looked away, cheeks aflush. They danced on in silence for a minute or two, Darcy’s eyes fixed somewhere below his shoulder. 

“We’re not allowed to go back though, are we?” she said after a while.

“It would only be…temporary,” he said.

Darcy raised an eyebrow and gave a little shrug. “Do your thing,” she said.

He shifted his hold on her waist and flexed his fingers. Technically, this was the kind of magic he was forbidden to use. Still, what mattered was what others knew, and Loki was very good at keeping people in the dark. As he wove his spells, he could feel the familiar warmth of power rushing down his arms. As it reached his fingers, Darcy drew a sharp breath and squeezed his hand hard, her steps faltering.

“It tingles,” she said, her eyes glowing with excitement. She looked at their hands, surrounded by dim golden light, then turned to him again. “It’s amazing!”

The room faded slowly into shadow, the voices of the others coming muffled and distant, but Darcy seemed so wrapped up in the sensation of magic flowing through her, he doubted she noticed anything else. He sent a gentle wave her way, and she laughed. Nostalgia washed over him as he watched her. It had been a part of him for so long, he had almost forgotten what they had felt like the first time; the sparks. He let her enjoy it a little while longer, amused by her reaction. All of a sudden, he felt her beginning to grasp at it, almost trying to direct it, and he quickly let the magic fade. He watched her curiously. 

“That was _awesome_ ,” she breathed, seemingly unaware of what she had been doing.

They had stopped dancing now, and he drew aside to allow Darcy time to take in their new surroundings. She turned around and around to look at the star-woven drapes covering the walls in the hall, mirroring the skies outside; she walked around for a minute or two with her back bent, following the glowing lines depicting various planetary orbits; she craned her neck back and gasped as she saw the branches of Yggdrasil spread out above them, an illusion of his mother’s that he was particularly fond of. Finally, she joined him at balcony, where all of Asgard lay glittering at their feet.

“Are we really here?” she asked then.

“Yes and no,” he said. 

“Are we still back at the wedding party?”

“Yes,” he said. “And no.”

“That’s not very helpful.”

“Suffice to say we won’t be missed.”

“I see,” she said, her eyes twinkling dangerously. “For how long?”

Loki looked at her calmly. “As long as necessary.” Oh, he had missed their games.

She stepped close, running her hand up his tailored Midgardian suit, and as she slipped her arms around his neck and pulled him into a kiss, he definitely felt them. _Sparks_.


	2. Cold Feet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jane has cold feet, and Loki isn't exactly helping matters. Or is he?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fluffy, fluffy, fluff *spreads petals everywhere*

"You have to let me in."

"No. Go away." 

"We both know I'm not going to do that. In fact, we both know I'm going to stand here until you open that door, so you might as well do it sooner rather than later."

She could hear Jane shuffling around in there, heard her sniffing and sobbing in a less than ladylike manner. The idea, presumably, was to stall until the ceremony was called off and the guests had gone home. Darcy lit the screen on her smartphone and looked at the time. She had ten minutes. Plus, brides were expected to be a little late, so in reality, she had half an hour at most before people started worrying.

"Darcy?"

Darcy flinched so violently that she dropped her cell, then spun around to see the one person she really didn’t want to deal with right now. 

"Jesus Christ, Loki. Please don't do that," she said, saw him bend down for the phone, and quickly snatched it up herself.

"Do what?" he asked.

"Appear."

"I do not _appear_. I simply walk quietly." He looked at the door, then at Darcy. "Why are you standing here?"

"Oh you know. Just minding my own business." She cleared her throat and added, "As you do."

There was a particularly ugly sob from the other side of the door, and Darcy cringed.

Loki narrowed his eyes. "Jane?"

"I'm working on it," she said in a hushed voice. "Please don't tell anyone. Just go away and let me handle this."

"If she's locked it, I can..." He reached for the handle.

"And what?" Darcy hissed. "Put her in chains and drag her in front of the commissioner? If you want to make yourself useful, go find my purse, because that makeup is going to need some work." She jutted her thumb towards the muffled sounds of Jane's sobbing.

Loki made no move to leave. Instead, he gave Darcy a measuring look, then tapped on the door. Darcy felt her jaw drop.

"What are you doing?" she mouthed silently.

"Who's that?" asked Jane.

"Your brother by law," said Loki.

"No, you're not. Tell him to go away, Darcy."

Darcy crossed her arms. "You heard her."

Loki gave her a smile that seemed to ask who was going to make him. "If you're having second thoughts, I understand you," he said.

Darcy threw a hand up in despair, then unlocked her phone to call Thor. _It’s his family, let him deal with it_ , she thought as she scrolled through her contacts.

"Don't," said Loki quietly, closing his hand over hers. Then, louder, "I can imagine what's going through your head right now."

"I doubt that very much," said Jane.

"You're thinking about how impossible this is. A mortal and a god, living on borrowed time."

Jane whimpered, and Darcy shot Loki a warning look. She tried to snatch her hand back, but he shook his head.

“Are you thinking about children? About whether his family will approve? No, you already know they won’t. Are you thinking about what you will have to give up for him? Not to mention what he will have to give up for you.” 

“Yes…” Jane’s voice sounded closer now.

“You’re _not_ helping,” said Darcy.

At the sound of a door opening further down the hall, Loki and Darcy both turned. It was Steve Rogers, looking mildly uncomfortable in a somewhat tight-fitting tuxedo. He walked towards them, frowning. 

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

“Nothing that concerns you,” said Loki.

“I’m not sure I like the tone of your voice, mister,” said Steve. “Not that I ever have.”

“Who’s that?” said Jane, sounding like her nose had swelled to three times its usual size.

“Jane?” said Steve and looked at the door, then at Darcy, who put a finger across her lips. Steve’s eyes went wide. “Cold feet?” he asked in a hushed voice.

“I’m working on it!” said Darcy desperately.

“If you want to make yourself useful, fetch Darcy’s purse,” said Loki quietly.

“ _Fetch?_ ” whispered Steve furiously. “Do I look like a dog?”

“Stop it, you two!” said Darcy before Loki had the time to retort. “I don’t care who goes, as long as someone gets it!”

“What does it look like?” asked Steve reluctantly.

“You can hardly be blamed for being observant, Captain,” said Loki, voice dripping with sarcasm. He motioned at Darcy’s plum-colored dress. “Naturally, it matches the gown.”

“It’s in the coat room,” said Darcy. “I’d be forever in your debt.”

Steve huffed and glared at Loki, but nevertheless went on his way to find it. They watched him disappear down the hall, and then Loki turned to her.

"Jane," he said, but his eyes were on Darcy's.

"Yes?" came Jane's voice from behind the door, small and frail.

"For the past month, I have had to suffer my brother voicing these same concerns. Often and loudly. If you wed, it will be a marriage fraught with complications. To pretend any different would be foolish."

"Oh, god…" said Jane.

Darcy opened her mouth to protest, but something in the way Loki kept his eyes fixed at hers made her hesitate.

"But Jane," he said. "As much as it irks me to play matchmaker to Thor, you should know this; he believes problems are made to be overcome. If you wish to grow old together, there are...ways of arranging that. He knows it won't be easy, but he believes - truly believes - that it will be worth it in the end."

Darcy realized she was holding her breath, and let it out with a nervous sigh. For some reason, her knees felt very weak all of a sudden.

Loki went on. "He has given this a lot of thought. As much as you, if not more, and if anything, it has made him more bent on going through with it. He can be very determined when he wants something."

"And he wants this,” said Darcy. For some reason it sounded more like a question than a statement.

“As strange as it may seem, he does,” said Loki. “The question is, do you?” He raised an eyebrow, and Darcy's heart skipped a beat.

There was a click, and the door handle turned slowly. Jane poked her head out, eyes red and puffy. "Maybe," she sniffed.

"Of course you do," said Darcy, and suddenly they were hugging, Jane laughing and sobbing in equal amounts.

"Oh, good," said Loki, in the blink of an eye turning into his usual insufferable self again. From somewhere he produced a handkerchief, and handed it to Jane. "I don't think I could stand another minute of Thor's self-absorbed ranting, let alone the millennia of it that would have followed had you refused him."

"I must look a mess," said Jane, dabbing at the corners of her eyes. She grimaced when the silken cloth came away blackened with mascara.

"I'd love to say no," said Darcy, "but that would be a big fat lie. Don't worry though, help is on the way."

As if on cue, Steve came jogging down the corridor towards them. He nodded to Jane. "Good to see you, Dr. Foster. Ma'am?" he added, turning to Darcy to hand her the purse.

"Give us five minutes," said Jane, stepping aside to let Darcy into the room.

"Make it ten," said Darcy.

A few minutes later, she was carefully brushing a light powder across Jane's cheeks, covering the last traces of the red blotches. Her friend drew a shuddering breath, and Darcy paused.

"Are you alright?" she asked.

"Yes," said Jane and let out a little laugh. "I don't know what got into me. I mean, what kind of idiot would you have to be to turn down a Norse god?"

Darcy smiled, turning her attention to Jane's hair. _Indeed._


	3. Crossover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tasertricks Week, day 7: Crossover. A backpacking Darcy Lewis gets a lift from Magnus Martinsson of the Ystad police force, and they both get more than they bargained for. Wallander/Thor crossover AU. Rated T for light smut.

_Weirdo, nutjob, creep, weirdo, nutjob, creep_ … The words echoed in her mind like some sort of mantra, keeping perfect time with her steps, crunching along the side of the road. She zipped her sweatshirt up, but that didn't stop the shivers at all. A glance over her shoulder - the twentieth in half as many minutes - assured her she was still alone. Her cell was long dead, but she guessed the time was close to half past three in the morning. The sky was already brightening behind her; a soft, grey morning light over the rippling and seemingly endless fields of barely. _Ridiculous country_ , she thought to herself. 

A few minutes later, she had started relaxing a bit. The breeze was actually pleasantly warm on her cheeks, so she unzipped her hoodie again. A sign at the side of the road announced that she was twelve kilometers from some place called Ystad. Darcy hitched her backback up and adjusted the straps across her chest, then sighed. Well, she might make it there in time for breakfast, she supposed.

She had been walking for half an hour or so when she heard the car coming. Her first instinct was to run and lie belly down in the field, but even in the pale pre-dawn, she could see that this was a station wagon and not a sedan, and honestly, what were the chances of encountering two weirdos in one night? Resolutely, she turned around again, kept her head down and walked on. The car passed at high speed, and then came the red glare of the brake lights. _What were the chances indeed?_ Darcy saw the car starting to back up, and felt her stomach knot. The car stopped, and the driver - a curly-haired young man - rolled down the window, then said something in Swedish.

“Sorry, I’m American, don’t speak the language,” she said, smiled apologetically, and started walking again.

“Hey, wait,” said the man. “Are you all right?”

She stopped. “Yep, just fine.”

“You shouldn’t be walking out here on your own. What’s your name?”

“Emily,” Darcy lied smoothly. “And I’ll be fine, don’t worry. I’m just a backpacker who happens to enjoy nightly walks.”

The man reached into his pocket, and for a split second, Darcy thought he was pulling a gun on her. Instead, he held up a badge. “As it happens,” he said, “I’m a police officer, and I’m telling you, you really shouldn’t be walking out here on your own.”

Darcy immediately regretted lying about her name, but what was done was done. “Why, is there a killer on the loose?” she asked lightly. 

The policeman didn’t seem to find that amusing at all. “Are you headed to Ystad?” he asked.

“I guess so.”

“Get in. I’ll drive you.”

This particular policeman was called Magnus, and he was on his way home from work. Work, Darcy suspected, was probably classified and all sorts of unpleasant if it happened at four in the morning. Magnus the policeman was frustratingly handsome in that effortless Scandinavian way that the men here all seemed to be, and as they raced past farms and fields at an alarming speed, she couldn’t help but sneaking a few glances at him. Then he caught her looking, and stared back at her for a couple of seconds before quickly righting up the car just as it swerved onto the wrong side of the road.

“There’s a decent hotel in town where I can drop you off,” he said.

“It’d be even better if it was a cheap hotel,” said Darcy. 

“I know one of those as well,” he said, and flashed her a smile.

The drive was short, made even shorter by Magnus’ trigger-happy right foot, and before she knew it, she was at the front desk of a B&B, listening to Magnus conferring in Swedish with an elderly lady. She looked tired and grumpy, and had a head full of rollers.

“It’s six hundred for the night,” said Magnus eventually.

“Jesus,” muttered Darcy. “Pardon me while I call my bank and ask to remortgage my flat.” She started rummaging around in her backpack for her wallet… Which wasn’t in its usual place. While she started looking through the different pockets and compartments, she felt the color rise in her cheeks. The lady sneered something in Swedish.

“She says she doesn’t take freeloaders,” Magnus translated.

“It was right here,” she said, looking in the usual place for the third time. “Right here, a few hours ago.”

Magnus shifted impatiently. “Look, Emily, I don’t have time to stand around here all night…”

Another quick drive and two flights of stairs later, she was standing in the living room of his apartment, eyeing his extensive collection of video games while he made coffee. As she had learned over the last week, Swedes had coffee whenever and wherever possible.

“This is quite the setup you have here,” she said as he brought the mugs through. She nodded to the TV stand, where an obscenely large number of consoles were lined up neatly. The whole place was very tidy, and looked like something out of an IKEA catalogue for bachelors. 

“Do you play?” he asked, and handed her the coffee.

“A bit,” she said. Another white lie.

“I can’t sleep yet, I’m still buzzing from work, so…” He grabbed a box from the shelf and raised an eyebrow. 

Darcy eyed the row of bottles on top of the bookshelf, then looked down at her mug. “If you can make this coffee Irish, I’m game.”

Two hours later, the sun was well up, they were a third of the way into an 18-year old single malt, and Darcy had lost count of how many times she’d kicked his ass in Street Fighter 4. 

“You’re cheating,” he said, voice slightly slurred. “I’ve been working for twenty hours, and you’re making me drink. I want to play Ryu now, or I’m not playing.”

“All right then,” said Darcy and put her controller on the coffee table. She stretched out on the sofa, tucking her feet under his legs. “Tell me about your work.”

Magnus shrugged. “I told you, I’m a police officer. You saw the badge.”

“But what kind of police officer? What were you doing tonight?”

“Can’t tell you. ’S a secret. It was more interesting than most days, I can tell you that.”

“That bad is it?”

He made a disgusted noise. “My boss is a nightmare! ‘Magnus, phone everyone in Skåne called Johan Svensson and ask them if they own a large dog.’, ‘Magnus, go through this pile of five thousand tax forms and see if anyone used dark green ink.’ ‘Magnus, my computer wasn’t working, so I pulled out all the cables then put them back in random places, fix it for me.’”

Darcy laughed. A few hours ago, when she’d been walking away from perhaps the creepiest woman she’d ever had the misfortune to encounter, she wouldn't have believed she’d spend the morning playing video games with a perfectly normal, good-looking Swede. She decided she liked Magnus. Sure, he had terrible taste in furniture, and there was probably _something_ wrong with him seeing as he was that handsome and still single, but right now, she liked him. When he next looked her way, she held his gaze for just a little bit too long, and seconds later, she was straddling his lap and tasting the whiskey on his breath.

“Mm.” He sounded surprised, but it was the good kind of surprised. 

She ground her hips down, and a thrill shot through her as she felt the evidence that he’d been thinking about this for longer than she had. “Hello there,” she said.

“I don’t–,“ he began. She shut him up with another kiss, and she could feel his smile against her lips. “I don’t–,“ he said again, so she reached down to stroke him through his jeans, and he hissed, then said something that sounded like it was probably a very dirty word in Swedish.

“I don’t like sentences that start with ‘I don’t’,” she said.

“I don’t normally do this sort of thing,” said Magnus.

“I don’t care,” said Darcy.

He had a double bed with dark grey sheets and a framed art print hanging over the headboard. The name of the artist escaped her, and for all of two minutes she racked her brains trying to remember it. Then, as his tongue worked Scandinavian wonders on her, and her knuckles whitened where she held on to the bed frame, she decided she didn’t really care about that either.

When she woke, she was still pleasantly exhausted. Judging from the sunlight outside, she couldn’t have slept for more than a couple of hours. She turned over, ready to go back to sleep, and then realized Magnus was standing at the foot of the bed, looking at her. What’s more, he was holding her passport.

“Darcy Lewis,” he said, and she felt a little rush of guilt.

“Yeah, about that. I should have–“

“I had a call,” he interrupted her. He sounded very serious, and Darcy sat up, clutching the covers to her chest. “Your wallet has been found.”

She sighed with relief. “Oh, good. And I can explain –“

“You can explain down at the station,” said Magnus in a short voice. “You’re under arrest. Anything you say can and will be held against you, or whatever it is they say in the movies.”

“What?” said Darcy, shocked. “Under arrest for what?”

Magnus clenched his jaw tight, looking at her as if he very much regretted spending the best part of the morning between her thighs. “Murder.”


End file.
